


Eight Days of Blue

by lazarwolff



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Canon Non-Binary Character, Dreams, Fantasy Racism, Gratuitous Norse Cuisine, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki's Old, Magic, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pranks and Practical Jokes, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Valkyrie's Also Old, Yggdrasil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarwolff/pseuds/lazarwolff
Summary: Loki and Valkyrie fight a magical crisis on many earths. Thor struggles with leadership, and the legacy of Asgard. Heimdall gets glasses.Updates every Wednesday!





	1. The New Roommate

**Chapter One**

Asgard was gone. Loki had been bracing himself for this moment, in equal parts eagerness and dread. But the feeling, the  _ reality  _ of his adopted world’s absence was different than any scenario he had concocted over the years. He watched the great plane of Asgard’s cities crumple into fire and stardust, and felt a familiar pang of non-belonging.

Asgard had been his home for as long as he could remember. For every social slight Loki suffered in Asgard, there were triumphs and moments of love and camaraderie. Now these moments weren’t bound to any place, and lived only in his mind. There they would surely be twisted by his ironic penchant for lying to himself.

Asgard was gone, and so then was Yggdrasil, and Frigga’s grave.

“Thor,” he said. “I’m having a crisis of conscience.”

Thor shot his brother a glance. “Ye gods. Call an ambulance.”

Loki sat down heavily. “Haha.”

Thor tore his eyes away from their bleeding homeworld and looked at him, brow furrowing over the new eyepatch. Loki would have laughed if his heart wasn’t palpitating. The Aesir and their circles.

“Loki, you’re blue,” Thor said.

“I think it’s less sadness and more  _ massive existential dread,  _ Thor, but…”

“No, you’ve turned the colour blue,” Thor said. “Unless my last eye has gone funny.”

Loki looked at his hands, and registered Thor to be correct.

“Yes, I’ve let it slip,” he said, and willed his hands back to an Aesir tone. Then he frowned, and tried the charm again, saying the words out loud like a spell-casting novice. No discernible change. “Damn. What is this?”

Loki willed himself to stay calm and think the dilemma through. Surely his skills, his seidr hadn’t immolated with Yggdrasil. His talents were a part of him, not drawn from the well of Asgardian power like the abilities of others, or the qualities of some weapons. A bakery might burn down but the baker still knows how to make bread. And yet he couldn’t change himself anymore.

As a control, Loki took a smooth rock from his pocket and asked it to change into a wooden cube. It obliged. Alchemy was a greater challenge than the cosmetic changes he usually made on a daily basis. So this block wasn’t rooted in his power, and certainly not his education. There was something else going on.

Loki looked at the remains of Asgard, and hoped the answer didn’t lie there.

“You know, I don’t mind it,” Thor said.

“I don’t give a fig if you don’t mind,” Loki said. “I mind it.”

“Fair enough,” Thor said.

“It must be some kind of plot,” Loki muttered, and clenched his fist. “To sow distrust towards me.”

“You are  _ literally  _ the God of Lies.”

“Nobody knows what I’m the god of, actually,” Loki corrected primly, though he had read enough Midgardian lore to know precisely what he was worshipped for down there. “And my point still stands.”

“So who would be plotting against you?” Thor asked. “Let us see; with your help I just saved everyone from the inferno you see before you, so I don’t think anyone from Asgard is going to hatch a sinister scheme to turn you blue. The fellows from other planets have no idea what kind of trouble you are, and Valkyrie would have just stabbed you by now. She is far too honourable to let an enemy live.”

“Centuries of public speaking lessons, and all it took for you to sound like a complete fool was five years of contact with Midgard,” Loki said.

“I’m saying the only person who thinks this is a worthy endeavour is you,” Thor argued, grasping Loki’s shoulders. “You are likely doing this to  _ yourself _ because when you’re not being a total jackass to someone, you’re not Loki.”

“If I’m doing this, it stands to reason I could stop,” Loki said. “And I’m not always being a total  jackass.” 

“Occasionally you halfass your jackassery, yes,” Thor said.

“I ought to turn you into a newt,” Loki said.

“Only if I get better,” Thor said, and sighed. “Look, Loki, so you’re blue! We all live on a spaceship now, there were going to have to be a couple of changes here and there. I think Asgard is ready for a Jotunn prince.”

The shocked and angry glances in the banquet hall were enough to entirely rebuff Thor’s optimism.

“You were saying?” Loki said between grit teeth.

“I thought everyone would be more enlightened, now that as a people, we’ve embraced a sort of post-nationhood,” Thor said. “My bad. I see that some things don’t happen all at once now. Sorry. Should I say something? I could shame everyone a little and remind them of your feats. Would you like that?”

Loki sighed, and shook his head.

“I’ll take dinner in my room. I wouldn’t want people to be put off their food,” he said.

Loki had just assumed that he would have had a room of his own when he initially peered inside to check his lodgings for suitability. Bookshelves, a sizable closet, and a proper view, worthy of even an unpopular prince. In these respects, his quarters were more than adequate, though the addition of an erroneous bed was puzzling. He sighed when he saw the unwelcome guest sitting on it.

“You’re a Frost Giant,” Valkyrie said. “Why didn’t you say?”

“It didn’t come up,” Loki said. “Is there a good reason you’re in my bedchambers?”

“We’re roommates,” Valkyrie said.

“I don’t think so,” Loki said. “I’m still a prince of Asgard, and I don’t have a roommate. You can sleep in the hall.”

“Everyone has roommates,” Valkyrie said. “Even Thor is sharing with Heimdall, and he’s the king of the spaceship. And I’d like to see you make me sleep in the hall.”

Something to take up with his brother, to be certain. Loki was not a sharer by nature. But he would have to be nice, at least for a little while, until everything was straightened out. Valkyrie could be a formidable opponent, and he wasn’t the best fighter in the galaxies.

“So why aren’t you downstairs wassailing with the other muscleheads?” he asked with a half-felt sneer.

“I’m not a huge wassailer,” Valkyrie said, and brandished a bottle of something strong enough that Loki could smell it from where he stood. “I actually prefer to wassail it alone. Do you want some?”

“By all means, drink by yourself,” Loki said. “I have other things to attend to.”

Loki pulled out a book of spells from his invisible library, which was localized entirely within  his left pocket and took years of study to pull off without the pages becoming nonsense. Valkyrie’s eye roll was almost audible.

“You’re a nerd!” she groaned. “A nerd who doesn’t drink!”

“I’m not a nerd,” Loki said. “Decades, nay, centuries of study in the magical arts have made me invaluable in all arenas, including that of the battlefield. And I have been known to imbibe. Perhaps that changes your perception somewhat?”

“Fighty blue nerd,” Valkyrie said with a nod of understanding.

“I think I will have a drink.”

“Too late, motherfucker. Offer rescinded on account of your irascible snootiness,” Valkyrie said. “You see, I too can talk fancy.”

“Very well,” Loki said, and conjured a glass of golden mead from the dining hall. There was a quiet moment while he read a chapter, and then a knock on the door.

“Hey,” Thor said, popping his head in. “How’s everyone getting along?”

“I would have thought we would be sharing rooms if such a thing was necessary,” Loki said pointedly.

“Oh yeah,” Thor said, and rubbed what was left of his hair with a peeved little grimace. “Only I didn’t want to get stabbed whilst sleeping, and you’re literally the only person on this spaceship who’s ever tried to do that. So. How about you, Valkyrie, do you like the room?”

“It’s great!” Valkyrie said, grinning widely. Like a wolf. “Thanks much, majesty.”

Thor did the finger guns at her, to Loki’s disdain.

“If there’s anything else you need to settle in, just let Aelfsa down the hall know. She’s in charge of the rooming on this floor, and I’m trying to delegate. Definitely do not come to me for anything regarding your accommodations,” he said. “Okay, good night. Door open or closed?”

“Closed,” Valkyrie and Loki said simultaneously. Thor obliged, gently shutting the door. Loki waited a couple of seconds before laughing.

“He really is trying, isn’t he?” he said.

“You think trying is funny, do you?” Valkyrie said with a crooked eyebrow.

“I think  _ Thor _ trying is funny,” Loki said. “And if he was your brother, you would too. He’s so used to being good at everything he attempts. He never had to extend himself, because Mama and Father both let him do what he wanted in school.”

“That is pretty infuriating,” Valkyrie said with a nod, and opened another container of the alcohol Loki was certain could fuel the ship in a pinch. “Certainly explains his lack of discipline.”

“Yes, I forgot,” Loki said. “You actually fought for something, instead of just seeking out glory.”

“Oh no, the glory seeking was a huge part of the appeal,” Valkyrie corrected. “Don’t you dare try to like me.”

“Are you actually named Valkyrie?” Loki asked. “If you fought as a Valkyrie, I’m assuming that’s not your real name.”

“Pfft,” Valkyrie said. “Who cares? People have been calling me that for a very long time now. My friends call me Val.”

“I like Val.”

“You’re not my friend, though,” Valkyrie said.

Loki, despite his true lineage, had a little bit of an Asgardian streak in him, one which had him interpret statements of fact as challenges. And it was a fact- Valkyrie was never his friend while they were on Sakaar, never ponied up for his friendship, and certainly never acted like a friend. But they weren’t on Sakaar anymore, and they were roommates now, barring a miraculous accident. So Loki was now inspired to make a friend.

“Why don’t we play a joke on Thor?” he asked.

“Do you want to hear the reasons why we don’t?” Valkyrie said.

“Oh, I know you must have some sense of levity about you,” Loki said. “With everything you’ve endured, you must have some use for a little prank here and there.”

“If I was going to pull a prank on someone, it would be you, fool,” Valkyrie said. “And you wouldn’t even know it was me.”

“Well, now I’ll know,” Loki said.

“Will you?” Valkyrie said with a crooked eyebrow. Loki met her gaze, and she sighed. “Why don’t you tell me about this prank?”

“All right,” Loki said. “So, Thor and Heimdall are rooming together. What if we hid a rotting fish in their room, and watch them go mad with the smell? I can hide things from Heimdall’s eye, they’ll never find it.”

“Juvenile,” Valkyrie said. “I would have expected something a little more multi-layered from you.”

“We have to make do with what we have,” Loki said. “The truly rococo schemes will have to wait until we’ve all settled in and there’s something for me to disrupt.”

“I was going to say, I like it,” Valkyrie said. “Simple, to the point, makes a statement. Now where do we find this fish?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the first chapter in a very long story I've planned out. I will release a chapter every Wednesday evening. Ask me questions and send me feedback at fingalruche.tumblr.com.
> 
> The title comes from the very good book by Diana Wynne Jones, Eight Days of Luke. Wynne Jones' work informs a lot of my writing, as her books were very important to me when I was young.
> 
> I'm playing fast and loose with the Marvel Asgard media types, and I'm also borrowing from Norse mythology and other places where the stories are used. When at all useful, I'll note them in the end notes.
> 
> The story is rated T for now. I don't anticipate it will budge. I've also planned a central F/F pairing, but as it's very far down the line, I haven't noted it in the tags yet.


	2. The Kitchen Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valkyrie and Loki steal a fish.

**Chapter Two**

The kitchens of the spaceship were located in its belly, a couple floors beneath their rooms. Valkyrie and Loki snuck down, charting their best method of attack.

Loki was inexplicably reminded of when he and Thor were young, and snuck into the kitchens to pilfer sweets together. The kitchens jealously guarded by a chef named Andhrimnir who had it out for the little princes, and would set them to washing dishes when he was able to catch them. Their crowning exploit from kitchen raids was a berry pie they had proceeded to eat with their hands, feet dangling from the rainbow bridge. And now Loki was approximately eight centuries older, and here he was doing the same thing. The only difference was the company, though Valkyrie was taking this a lot less seriously than Thor.

“I hope they have skjarming trout,” she said with a grin. “Those are the absolute worst smelling fish in the cosmos.”

“Let’s just make it past the chefs, and then see what variety we can choose from,” Loki said. He wasn’t sure if Andhrimnir was still going to be on his guard even after years of their strained detente. Asgardian grudges were long-winded and seldom forgotten, especially in the more petty matters.

“You can hide things from Heimdall’s eye, but you can’t hide us from the chefs?” Valkyrie asked.

“It’s not that simple, you fool,” Loki said. “They’re chefs. They’ve manned Asgard’s kitchen since we figured out fire. There’s no warrior more proud than an Aesir chef, no scout more vigilant. If we don’t have a good plan of attack going in, we’ll be routed.”

“You need to loosen up, buttercup,” Valkyrie said, and handed him a bottle of something, small enough to be in the mini fridge of a hotel somewhere. “This’ll do it.”

“Oh please,” Loki said, uncorking the little bottle. “I only mean to say that we need to be prepared. I’m not _uptight._ ”

He drank the purple liquor inside, and smacked his lips.

“Am I getting a hint of lavender?” he asked, and then his eyes widened as his mood immediately lifted and he felt warmth in his toes. “Whoa.”

“There we go. Now let’s maraud this kitchen,” Valkyrie said.

* * *

 

Andhrimnir had worked many seasons as the chief cook of Asgard’s dining hall. It was he who had slaughtered the beast Saehrimnir and cooked him in his beloved cauldron, Eldhrimnir. Only he could ferment the apples of Yggdrasil and put up the mead for the long Asgardian winters. He was also a worthy fighter, and had many a story to tell after kitchen hours, over a tall glass of housemade bjorr.

He ran his kitchen with the efficiency he had learned at the stoves of Midgard, when Odin had granted his requests to _stage_ at Noma and Chez Panisse. The vaulting bookshelves of the kitchen were crammed with texts on every cuisine throughout several galaxies, though of course the kitchen had its traditional standbys for special occasions. So Andhrimnir considered himself prepared, as any self-respecting chef would be.

However, Andhrimnir had never been prepared for the colossal hunger and escalating hijinx of Odin’s two children. He was grateful when Loki and Thor had finally outgrown the excitement of midnight kitchen raids centuries ago, but he sometimes still woke up in the middle of the night to make sure there weren’t any princelings creeping in his larder. These exploits were far from his mind while he prepared his team for the first night in their home away from home, but Andhrimnir felt a familiar prickle on the back of his neck, a sure sign of Loki’s magic.

“Eldhrimnir,” he said to his cauldron, “Keep an eye out during service.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Eldhrimnir said. “What for?”

“I’m not sure,” Andhrimnir said, looking around suspiciously. “But I sense mischief afoot. My mind can’t be troubled by this tonight.”

“No problem,” Eldhrimnir said. “Nothing gets past me.”

“That’s what I like about you.”

Andhrimnir trusted his entire crew, but he especially trusted his equipment, whether it was his battle-nicked meat cleaver or his sentient cauldron. He would be able to work this evening in relative peace.

The hairs on his neck prickled again, and he took a quick look around before he started on the biscuits for midnight snack. Midnight snack was an Asgardian institution, not to be abandoned simply because they no longer orbited around a sun or anything like that. Biscuits, hot cocoa, and bjorr would always be available for insomniac Aesir, no matter the surroundings.

“Oh, hey,” said Valkyrie. Andhrimnir looked up from pressing butter into the dough.

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“I was just wondering if you had anything I could snack on,” she said, and leaned against a counter casually, most likely to hide how inebriated she was. “Is there like, trail mix or something I can have?”

“There’s usually snacks set out in strategic places,” Andhrimnir said with a frown. “I know you’re new here, but people who aren’t kitchen staff typically aren’t allowed in the kitchen. It’s a busy place.”

“Yeah, of course, I just wanted to see if you had trail mix?”

“We have granola, for muesli at breakfast,” Andhrimnir said. “I can get some packed up for you.”

“Aw thanks, that would be great. Should I wait here, or…?”

Valkyrie leaned too hard, and in doing so broke off some of the marble countertop. Andhrimnir blinked at the piece of stone shattered in her hand.

“So that’s very expensive,” he said.

“I am so, so sorry,” Valkyrie said, handing the piece of countertop to him, not noticing when he stumbled under its weight. “Don’t know me own strength sometimes. I can put it back in if you like.”

“Boss, that’s a distraction,” Eldhrimnir said, bubbling at the soup station. “I’m pretty sure Loki’s pretending to be a fly and stealing some shit.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Andhrimnir said, and looked at Valkyrie, his betrayer. “So you’re Loki’s patsy?”

“I’m nobody’s _patsy_ ,” Valkyrie said, highly offended, and then bolted to the larder. “Hey Blue! It’s time to go!”

A fly buzzed out of the larder, burdened by a large raw fish, one of Andhrimnir’s prized skjarming trout. Valkyrie intercepted the fly, and stuffed the raw fish into her pack. The fly held onto her hair, and she dived past Andhrimnir, around the other chefs, and out of the kitchen altogether.

“Aw shit, man,” Eldhrimnir said. “I’m sorry he got past me.”

“He got past us all, Eldhrimnir, don’t feel bad,” Andhrimnir said, fist clenching. “But they won’t win next time. Next time, we’ll be ready.”

* * *

 

“Totally worth it,” Valkyrie cackled as they hid from the infuriated chef. Loki was lying down, sweating and breathing heavy. Carrying that fish in fly form was an arduous task, and he was also very drunk from whatever Valkyrie had given him.

“We’ve opened one hell of a can of worms,” he said. “Andhrimnir doesn’t forget.”

“Who the fuck does these days?” Valkyrie said. “Seems everybody’s got a score to settle. Are we going to plant this fish in Thor’s room or what?”

“As long as I don’t have to do it in fly form,” Loki said. He was still winded from the first time, and irritated that he hadn’t recovered from the feat by now.

“Of course not,” Valkyrie said. “You might not know this, but I am a master of stealth.”

“Then why didn’t you use said stealth to get that fish in the first place?” Loki asked, nose wrinkling; the skjarming trout was starting to reek.

“Because I wasn’t thinking,” Valkyrie said. “But I can do this, Blue. I’ll sneak into the room of Thor and Heimdall, and hide this stinky fish. All’s you have to do is hide me from Heimdall’s eye.”

“Done,” Loki said. He closed his eyes and planted a little magic on Valkyrie’s forehead. “Go in mischief.”

“Awesome,” Valkyrie said with a wicked chuckle, and disappeared into Thor’s quarters.

“Child of Laufey!” a cold voice said. Loki reluctantly opened his eyes and came face to face with one of the old women who used to tend Yggdrasil. He didn’t care for these women, and as a whole, they didn’t care form him. Their mutual dislike was one of the reasons he wasn’t a witch.

“Hello, old woman,” he said, and cried out in protest when she slapped her. “What was that for?”

“For using your magic so wantonly,” the woman said. “All your learning and you never think, ice-brains.”

_“Hey.”_

Stung, Loki stood up. The old woman had to crane her head to look at him now, and he took that victory a little more seriously than he had any right.

“How do you know what I use my magic for, anyway?” he asked with a haughty glance downwards. “It’s _my_ magic, after all.”

“Oh, dim,” the old woman cried, with an anguished sigh right out of the songs. Loki was coming to tire of her pronunciations. “Dim, young, and arrogant!”

“Stop insulting me for a minute,” Loki said. “Was there a reason you wanted to talk to me?”

“You must feel it,” the old woman insisted, and something in Loki dropped, turned cold. “Your power is waning. It is the same for all of us, who have been blessed with magic. The great tree burned.”

“Yes, but… we have magic of our own,” Loki said. “Granted to us from the tree. It can’t be taken from us unless it’s the tree which does the taking.”

One of Loki’s first memories was Frigga taking him to Yggdrasil, to see if any power would be granted to him. How proud she had been when he was bathed in the tree’s giving light, embraced by the root of Asgard’s power.

“My sweet child, you are the steward of this power,” Frigga had said to him. “In some ways, you have another tree within you now. You must tend to it if you wish for it to bear fruit.”

But she hadn’t ever told him what kind of fruit his power ought to bear.

“There is no talking your way out of this truth, Silvertongue,” the old woman said scornfully, and the old nickname stung more than her slap. “If you continue to squander your power on larks and capers, you will become nothing better than a court magician.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Loki asked. “Begone, hag. I’ve no need for your fear-mongering.”

“Why do you think you’ve revealed your true form?” she said, touching his blue skin, looking him dead in the eye when he recoiled. “Even though you don’t know better, the power within you does. It’s conserving what it can in these lean times. You should listen to it.”

And before he could retort, she was gone.

“Blue!”

Loki opened his eyes, and realized he had dreamed the exchange with the old woman. He blinked at Valkyrie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So imagine my pleasure when I was researching for this chapter and found there was actually a chef of Norse legend. Noma and Chez Panisse are two very busy restaurants for Andhrimnir to stage at, I apologize.
> 
> I don't think the cauldron talks in the legends, but Eldhrimnir does talk in this story.
> 
> Loki likes turning into a fly with the proportional strength of a normal person. Wait...


	3. My Home Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild prophecy (???) appears.
> 
> As usual, you can find me at https://fingalruche.tumblr.com/

**Chapter Three**

Val considered herself a premiere sneak, and probably didn’t need to be cloaked from Heimdall’s eye for this mission anyway. The skjarming trout was hidden with all her not-inconsiderable cunning, and she rolled on out feeling pretty good, ready to meet up with her co-conspirator. It gave her a little pause when she found he was sleeping, but she simply shook him until he woke.

“You were flaked out there,” she said. He was blinking at her with those dark red Jotunn eyes. “Are you feeling okay? You’re not catching a weird space disease, are you?”

“No, I’m not catching…” Loki started, and blinked again. “Did you see an old woman here, just a moment ago?”

“It’s just me here, Blue,” Val said. “Why don’t we get out of here before Heimdall or Thor sees us?”

Loki nodded, and clumsily got to his feet. Val figured that he must have some kind of frost giant metabolism, and that he was a little hungover from the tincture of sav she gave him before their kitchen heist. In any case, they walked back to their room in companionable silence, and Loki lay down in bed almost immediately.

“Come on, Blue,” Val said. “The night’s still young.”

“I haven’t had a chance to catch my breath since I was on Sakaar,” Loki said. “And I watched my home get destroyed today. So, I’m turning in.”

_ It was my home too, _ Val thought, but she didn’t say it to her cantankerous roommate.

Asgard hadn’t been her home anyways, however many centuries ago when she’d last set foot there. There was great shame in returning from battle alone, and unhurt to boot. Shame was enough to turn her from the nation’s golden spires in search of some place where they didn’t know her name, didn’t care. Her life became a series of distractions, distractions from herself. What else could she do when she looked in the mirror and saw a traitor and a coward?

And her return to Asgard only hastened its destruction, or so it seemed. Val stared at the ceiling of her room, and wondered if the shifting mire within her, great ugly thoughts she couldn’t slay even with drink or glory, would ever still just enough to let her think.

“It was my home too,” she finally managed to say out loud, but by then Loki was sleeping, and didn’t hear her.

When she looked over, Val noticed with some trepidation that Loki’s form was changing like the sky over a lake. The closer she looked, the more constantly he appeared to change. Did these changes reflect his dreams? Val looked away. She didn’t have magical ability of any kind, apart from being supernaturally amazing, and she found his unconscious display of power almost intimate.

The night was far too quiet, and visually unchanged from the spaceship’s day. Restless, she crept out of their room to wander the halls. She wasn’t the only wanderer at this time. Aesir were returning from midnight snack and others were headed to the not negligible athletics room to spar before going to bed. But Val seemed to be the only one who wasn’t going some place.

“Oh, Valkyrie, hello,” Thor said. Val nodded at him.

“How’s your night, your majesty?” she asked.

“Not especially…” Thor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s a great stench coming from my quarters, and neither myself nor Heimdall can seem to locate the source. Which is strange.”

“Oh wow,” Val said, her poker face sliding on seamlessly. “That sucks.”

“Doesn’t it,” Thor agreed. “And here I can’t open a window because we are in space. Luckily I’m not tired, so I was headed downstairs for a drink. Would you like to join me?”

“Absolutely,” Val said.

“So back with Asgard,” Thor said eagerly, setting a pint down in front of Val. “Must be exciting.”

“Reasonably,” Val said. “That big old battle was proper legendary. But I still have an itch in my feet.”

“The old wanderlust,” Thor said with a nod. “I know it well.”

“I’m thinking…” Val paused. Thor seemed eager to keep her in this place he called Asgard, and it was difficult to properly relate why that wouldn’t work for her. “I’m thinking I could find a quest or something to keep me travelling? I’d come back, obviously, I just can’t really stay. Not yet.”

“I understand,” Thor said, though he did seem a little let down, to Valkyrie’s dismay. “A quest like the Holy Grail?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Val frowned. “Before, you were saying something about Infinity Stones?”

“Oh, don’t bother with those,” Thor said. “Worthless junk, even if they are out there. But the Holy Grail’s a Jesus thing. Have you heard of Jesus?”

“I don’t think so,” Val said. The name did ring a bell, maybe she’d met the fellow at some point on Sakaar.

“I can find you some business abroad, and maybe a position and a fancy salary to go with it,” Thor said. “But you might give Asgard a chance. The reason you left, it’s all ancient history. A Valkyrie would be a welcome sight in our skies these days.”

“I’m not  _ a _ Valkyrie,” Val said. “That’s the problem. I’m  _ the  _ Valkyrie.”

She drained her mead, and set down the pint, trying not to look at her King, his one-eyed disappointment. It was a familiar sight, strangely imposed from a far less pleasant memory of long ago.

“Thanks for the drink, highness,” she said. “Let me know about that job offer.”

“Rude girl,” someone called at her from the hall. Val’s head whipped around. It had been an age since anyone called her that. Sure enough, one of the old women, the ones who kept Yggdrasil, stood there, pointing a gnarled finger at her.

“What,” Val said, rudely. She had little patience to begin with, but these women deserved none of it. Perhaps the old women provided instruction and guidance, but to her they had always been nothing but cold and condescending.

“Just as rude as ever, I see.”

“And another self-fulfilling prophecy from one of Asgard’s best diviners,” Val scoffed. “Why don’t you tell me what you want instead of insulting me?”

“You need to speak reason to the Jotunn prince,” the old woman said.

“Uh,” Val said. “Why me?”

“He won’t listen to us,” she said.

“Ye gods. I wonder why that is,” Val said. She remembered how the Norns treated people they found to be too different to stomach, and Loki must have been as different as they came, even as a child.

“Our treatment of Loki the boy is beside the point,” the old woman said. “He must go on a quest, and you must protect him.”

“It must be a pretty shitty day for the Norns when you’re asking favours from a Valkyrie and a frost giant,” Val said, and started walking away.

“This is no favour. This is the future of our world. Your world.”

Val paused, and looked at the old woman. She seemed shaken, which wasn’t a good look on someone who was supposed to be all-knowing.

“Thor saved us. He saved the people. Loki will save our lives,” she continued. “But he must go of his own free will.”

“Then you can’t tell me to tell him,” Val said. “You just have to trust that he’ll do the right thing. That’s just the way it is. Sorry.”

Val turned away for good this time, not knowing if this was some kind of test. The Norns were very fond of character tests, as she recalled, and she did her best to resist them when they came up. She snuck back into her bed, properly tired, and fell asleep almost immediately.


	4. Lessons in Magic

**Chapter Four**

When Loki woke up, he looked different than when he’d fallen asleep. This wasn’t an alarming occurrence. He often changed without any real control, especially during a sleep which came after long periods of stress. However, it occurred to him, while he took in the sight of Valkyrie over him with an uncomfortable look, that uncontrollable shapeshifting might be something to mention to a new roommate.

“It’s me, Loki,” he said.

“I thought so,” Valkyrie said.

He sat up, evaluating the changes. No longer blue, which was a marked improvement, but a different gender than yesterday, which could possibly lead to more gawking than his Jotunn form. He sighed, and wondered if there was anything in his closets that wouldn’t be terribly uncomfortable to wear now.

A quick survey turned up a blue shift and black woollen stockings from very long ago. He was grateful that his feet appeared to be around the same size, or at least his shoes still fit. The wrong size shoes were their own kind of torture, and Loki wasn’t one to walk about in his stocking feet.

“Do you often change so?” Valkyrie asked. Loki shook his head.

“Usually I have some level of agency,” he said, frowning in the mirror. Flaming red hair and an errant smatter of freckles across the bridge of a broken nose, spindly fingers and bitten off nails. “This form is an old one. I wouldn’t have chosen it myself.”

And he couldn’t change any part of it, not even the hair. He took out the smooth rock, his control from his pocket, and willed it to be a gambling die. It obliged. He willed his fingernails to grow out, because he’d outgrown the habit of biting them. They remained obstinately stunted and cracking, even in the glass’ reflection. Frustrated, he turned away from the mirror, just as there was a soft knock on the door.

“It’s me, Thor,” Thor’s voice came. “Wake up call!”

“Come in!” Valkyrie said.

“I thought Aelfsa was taking care of day to day floor operations?” Loki said irritably, before realizing that his voice had changed somewhat in pitch.

“Who’s that in there with you, I… oh, Loki,” Thor said. “Hello dear sibling.”

“I didn’t mean for this one again,” Loki said. “I think it’s part of the blue issue. Why are you doing the wake up call?”

“Because I had the extra time before king stuff, so I let Aelfsa sleep in,” Thor said. “Also my room smells really bad, and I still haven’t found out why. We have to check all the pipes. Any excuse not to be there is a blessing. So is there anything you guys need?”

“No,” Loki said. “Except for you to get out.”

“Okay, okay, geez,” Thor said, and carefully shut the door behind him.

“That was a little short,” Valkyrie said, though she didn’t seem overly offended on Thor’s behalf.

“I suppose so,” Loki said. “Next time I’ll tell him to get out, please.”

“There you go,” Valkyrie said. “So are you a woman sometimes? Like now?”

“Perhaps,” Loki said. “And sometimes, I’m a man. Luckily, I’m always Loki, so that cuts down on most people’s confusion.”

He saw her look, and sighed.

“One of the many reasons I earned the Norns’ ire,” he said. “But they needed very few reasons to dislike me. The gender or genders unknown were just a technicality.”

“They wouldn’t teach you,” Valkyrie said.

“Oh, they couldn’t refuse me,” Loki said with a bitter smile. “After an intervention from my mother… from Frigga, they had no choice but to teach me. I think that probably made them hate me more. What could be more obnoxious than an arrogant prince muscling his way into their secret learnings?”

“You can’t have been more than ten,” Valkyrie said. “That’s when they refused me.”

For an almost impressive lack of latent talent, the old woman had stage whispered to her mother. Valkyrie still felt the anger of that day, and the disappointment.

“I was seven, a prodigy,” Loki said. “They hadn’t had a prodigy before. More reason to hate me. And when I turned ten, I started looking this way, and those old women thought it was a mockery. They wouldn’t call me Friggsdottir at my lessons, they wouldn’t even call me girl. And this was the form of my interminable teenage years.”

“Should I call you Friggsdottir?”

“That name is a falsehood,” Loki said. “I know that now. Why didn’t they teach you?”

“Because they thought I couldn’t be taught,” Valkyrie said. Loki scoffed.

“The Norns have awesome power,” he said. “And they provided several services which were considered indispensable. But they were lazy in their pedagogy. Anybody can be taught, if they have the desire. And the source.”

“Well,” Valkyrie said, and deflated. “The tree is gone.”

“Yes, the tree is gone,” Loki said, and produced a little sprout in the palm of his hand. “But there are still sources. Did you still want to learn?”

“I don’t know,” Valkyrie said, though she seemed very tempted. “Won’t they be pissed if you do?”

“Oh yes,” Loki grinned. His red hair appeared to misbehave at the prospect, fanning slightly as though he was underwater. “Terribly.”

Valkyrie smiled back, understanding.

They booked a sparring room at the gymnasium through the helpful computer on their floor, thrumming with the thrill of conspiracy. Then it was down to breakfast, a bit ahead of the rush. Aesir were already in the dining hall, remainders from midnight snack or other victims of Thor’s wake up call. Strange stares followed both Loki and Valkyrie now, Loki because he seemed a stranger, Valkyrie because the details of her service had finally started spreading on the ship.

Valkyrie went to the great table and picked crispy, nearly burnt bacon from the bacon platter, nearly rare toast from the mountain of bread. She didn’t know what Loki liked to eat, so brought back a little of everything, as well as two large bjorrs, the breakfast kind. Loki took one of the bjorrs, a seven minute egg and a baked potato.

“What, that’s it? We have a big day ahead of us.”

“I save myself for elevenses,” Loki said, rolling his hard-boiled egg on the tabletop. Valkyrie shrugged, making a mountain of a sandwich lined with bacon on both sides. Loki started picking the shell away from the egg, and as he did, Valkyrie could see a little chick, blind and naked, emerging in his hand.

“Wow! Magic starts now,” she said. “Is that little guy real?”

“Reasonably real,” Loki said. “He’s still very eggy.”

Sure enough, the closer Valkyrie looked, the more she could see that the chick seemed almost sculpted of hardened yoke.

“So it’s like a sculpture, or a wind up toy?”

“I suppose, but instead of a wind up, the mechanism is me,” Loki said. “You can’t make living things from dead material.”

“But you can make living things,” Valkyrie said.

“Eventually. It’s nearly always a bad idea to generate life with magic,” Loki said. “And besides, there are simpler ways.”

Valkyrie nodded. Even far away, the stories of Loki’s children reached her, of Sleipnir the eight-legged horse (a spider, Valkyrie had thought they must mean a spider large enough to ride) and Fenrir, and a great many others. Loki was a singular sort, but he had many familial lines, more than Odin.

“I’m not interested in making life,” she decided.

“Good,” Loki said, and the chick collapsed back into yolk as she watched. “That’s one temptation we can get out of the way then. A great many get distracted by the prospect.”

“Distracted from what?”

“Oh, the real fun,” Loki said. Did his hair have a mind of its own? Valkyrie couldn’t stop watching it curl and sway with every wicked word. “Are you finished your breakfast?”

“No. I don’t eat elevenses,” Valkyrie said.

She buckled down on the rest of her meal, waffles and baked tomatoes and sausages and eggs, of course, then a bowl of porridge with all the fixings and also some lovely vinartarta which had called her name. Her glass of bjorr filled remotely by the time she was finished, and Loki looked mildly impressed.

“I missed the Aesir table,” she said. “Sakaar, maybe you noticed…”

“Entirely finger food,” Loki nodded. “It is nice for there to be set meal times again instead of constantly waving down the waiters with the cocktails.”

They were getting looks, Valkyrie realized, curious and angry. Loki seemed oblivious, though it was clear he was drawing the most ire. She wonder what Loki got up to in his adolescence, that people seemed genuinely confused and angry. But then again, she was hearing more and more about Asgard and how he hadn’t fit. She hadn’t fit either, except with her sisters in arms.

“Hey,” Thor said, sitting down with them at the table.

“Oh, hello again,” Loki said, spearing his baked potato. “And how was ‘king stuff?’”

“Good. Lots to do. You know I like to be busy,” Thor said. “Look, I’ve had a few people ask me, and I know it’s not really my business, but what are you two up to?”

“Up To?” Loki said. “And To What Could We Possibly Be Up?”

“Uh,” Thor said, and turned to Valkyrie. “You heard that, right?”

“No dangling participle,” Valkyrie nodded, though she’d heard Loki’s strange speech just the same as Thor.

“I’m Sure I Don’t Know What You Mean,” Loki continued. One of his pianist’s hands touched Valkyrie’s, and then they were in their sparring area.

“Whoa,” Valkyrie said, looking around. “How? You didn’t say ‘let’s go’ or anything like that.”

“Words don’t need to have the same intent as your spell,” Loki said. “I work most of my magic with words, and I find them to be mostly interchangeable. What I like is numbers, and counting. If you say to yourself, twenty, for instance, and then you say a series of words which numbers twenty syllables, and now you’re twenty times twenty paces from the breakfast hall and in the sparring room.”

“That seems arbitrary,” Valkyrie said with a frown.

“It’s only arbitrary if you don’t know the rules,” Loki said, and they began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late, folks!


	5. Valkyrie Makes Tea

**Chapter Five**

Thor remembered when he thought that nothing was more exhausting than a great battle filled with feats. Thor was realizing, only now, that past him had been a bleeding fool. No war, stretched over however many realms, could come close to governing.

“What is it you want me to do?” he asked the chef.

“I want you to control your sibling!” Andhrimnir bellowed. “Loki and his lackey absconded with a very valuable skjarming trout. My cauldron saw it, and so did my sous chef. Your highness, I understand the caprices of youth. But Loki is no longer a child, and his antics held little relish for me even when he was.”

“And when was this theft?”

“The night before last,” Andhrimnir said. “I was busy until this moment and didn’t have time to report it.”

“Yes. We’ve all been busy,” Thor pointed out, and immediately he regretted his shortness. “I apologize on behalf of my brother. I understand food is scarce while we establish new resources.”

“Thank you,” Andhrimnir said. Thor nodded, and waited for him to leave before he slumped in his chair.

“Heimdall,” he muttered. “How many more require a private audience with their king?”

“Sixteen,” Heimdall said. “Several of the issues raised have to do with Loki. They don’t like him, don’t trust him etcetera.”

“Well, apart from stealing a fish, apparently, I don’t think Loki’s actually done anything apart from being himself,” Thor sighed, and his eyes widened. “I just realized something.”

“Loki hid a fish in our room,” Heimdall said, realizing it just as Thor did.

“I’m going to kill him. And then I’m going to get some sleep,” Thor groaned. Heimdall nodded.

“Indeed.”

Thor missed his parents. He felt as though centuries of their lessons in etiquette and leadership had evaporated from his mind the moment he’d sat in this chair, and he didn’t have anyone to talk to who wasn’t even-keeled Heimdall.

Heimdall was sensible and ready for this transitional phase. If the Midgardian concept of abdication was transferable to Asgard, Thor was going to make the gatekeeper king for sure. But he still needed to do the research on abdication and power transference, and he wasn’t sure that Heimdall really wanted all of that on his plate.

His father would have scoffed at the idea of throwing in the towel. Thor understood this, but took it with a grain of salt because he’d already done so much that Odin considered unthinkable. Destroying Asgard, for instance, would have been a failure of sorts in the age of Odin. And honestly, while destroying his homeland felt right in the moment, Thor was now deeply homesick and overrun.

And Loki wasn’t helping things at all. This was not much of a surprise, and given the magic crisis (Oh yes, a magic crisis in Asgard. And only Thor, Heimdall, and the Norns really had all the details), it was even understandable that there were impulses and powers Loki could not control as well as he could when the World Tree existed.

Thor was never a good head for magic, and had difficulty grasping the breakdown in the magical chains the Norns were trying to describe. Thor wished he could get Loki to consult on this particular matter, but the bad blood between his sibling and the Norns could not be forgotten even for this.

It was the wise women’s tightly held belief that Loki was actually incapable of doing the right thing if it were expected of him, and would certainly try to compound the crisis if he had any of the juicier details regarding the magical breakdown. Thor could not afford to alienate the Norns, though he knew them to be unfair when it came to Loki. It could be argued that he had an opposite bias, after all. It was simpler not to include Loki at all.

Especially while people still felt uneasy about him. Shapeshifters and magicians drew much suspicion amongst the Aesir, to say nothing of the Jotunn. Loki had earned a reputation which didn’t die with Asgard, and didn’t appear to have any inclination towards redemption. 

“We have lunch break,” Heimdall reminded Thor, breaking his reverie. “Shall we eat here or in the dining hall?”

“One’s as good as the other,” Thor shrugged.

“Chin up, your highness,” Heimdall said, clasping Thor’s shoulder. “We’re going to get into the rhythm of things soon.”

“I hope so,” Thor said, once again dearly missing the battlefield.

After lunch, Thor took it on himself to solve the Mystery of the Stinking Bedroom once and for all. Eventually, he found a greasy paper packet of skjarming trout wedged beneath the wardrobe, and disposed of it in the toilet. The smell didn’t lift immediately, but he was sure with the source gone eventually the scent would disperse. A harmless jest and a waste of a fish, nothing more.

And yet he felt uneasy, had felt uneasy since the day’s start, and couldn’t help but think it was because of Loki. He looked out his window and into star-studded space. No end in sight, and already this journey wore on him.

* * *

“And you’re sure there’s no stance I need to have for spells?” Val asked as Loki set some items on the empty table in the sparring space. “There’s stances in all the martial forms I’ve learned.”

“Nope, no stances required,” Loki said with a confident shake of his head, and Val wondered, fleetingly, if this was really the person to teach her magic. “So I have here a teapot and some water.”

“Are we making tea?”

“We’re making tea,” Loki nodded. “But  _ hot  _ tea.”

“Is there any other tea?”

“No, there is not. And yet I bring no kettle,” Loki said, and they sat down. “We release heat. At least, most of us do. It turns out I’m a Frost Giant, so I’ve always run cold. But most Asgardians take for granted their warm blood, their skin transmitting that heat.”

“Okay?” Valkyrie said with a frown.

“With magic, it’s not all making things into what they aren’t,” Loki said. “Sometimes, it’s just a matter of enhancing, magnifying what’s already there. Make the tea hot. Use your own warmth, but focus it.”

“Okay,” Val said, only a little less doubtful. “But how?”

“Let’s see how you try at first,” Loki said.

Val nodded, and poured water into the teapot. She was thinking of heat as much as she could, though the water seemed just as tepid going into the teapot as it did coming from its own container. She could feel Loki watching her, and her ears started burning. It felt just like when the Norn gave her a simple test, all those years ago, and she’d failed.

“Oh, that’s good,” Loki said.

“What am I doing?” Val asked, and Loki’s face fell.

“It’s gone, but you were doing it,” he said. “Just think about whatever you were thinking about just now. It was working.”

“I was thinking about heat,” Val said, and focused on the thoughts of warmth again. But the water didn’t steam, or change at all to her eyes. When she dipped her finger into the water, it was still cold. “Damn, let me try that again.”

“Hold onto whatever you were thinking about,” Loki said, and Val redoubled thinking about heat, though she felt very silly pouring tea and calling it hot. “No, that didn’t do it.”

“I know!” Val said, “But I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“What were you thinking about before?”

“Making the water hot,” Val said.

“Well, that’s not working, so,” Loki said, and Val nearly slapped him.

“I’m trying!” she snapped, and then Loki nodded.

“That, that was good,” he said, pointing to the cup of steaming water. “Whatever you were thinking about.”

“But I was just mad at you,” Val said, “You didn’t tell me how to do it at all.”

“In magic, when you think about the end result, you’ll have a more difficult time getting there than if you just think of other things,” Loki said.

“That sounds like bullshit,” Val said. “You  _ do  _ know how this works, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I’ve never had to tell someone the mechanics,” Loki said. “In such small words, to boot.”

Val groaned.

“But that’s what you do when you teach.”

“Well, yes,” Loki said, and then saw the problem. “Oh.”

“So the Norns won’t teach me, and you can’t?” Val said. Loki nodded, seeing no way to refute this.

“Magic is second nature to me,” Loki said. “Explaining it to you is a little like how you might explain breathing, the heft of your sword. I can see only one solution which gets you instruction. We need to find you a teacher.”

Val remembered her conversation with the Norn, all of a sudden, the necessity of Loki embarking on a quest of his own free will. Would it be fitting to trick the trickster god into heroism? She decided that it would.

“Then let’s get me a teacher,” she said with a grin. “Where should we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magic classes are my favourite things in literature.
> 
> fingalruche.tumblr.com is where you can find me!


	6. The Helm of Feathers

****

**Chapter Six**

Her memories lingered, flung into the cosmos along with her bodily remains. She remembered three children. She remembered her husband, centuries of contentment broken by explosive arguments which rocked the lesser realms, necessary changes to the status quo. She remembered Asgard.

Her memories ought to have been unseated, she thought with some surprise. There was no place for dead gods. This was a rule solemnly taught at childhood, in those ancient days when they were still young and the thought of death an alien one. With death came nothing, this was the second rule. Though there were stewards to the dead from lesser realms, no such kingdom had been assigned to the Aesir, because after a funeral came nothing. But she was here, thinking, remembering.

Where was she? She blinked, found she  _ could  _ blink, and looked around slowly. She saw stars, jewel-coloured planets which were very far away. No sign of her entry point, no Bifrost to carry her back to familiar territory. Uncharted space, then, which clarified her situation by only a fraction. She looked at her hands, and found she could see through them and into constellations. She attempted to call to Heimdall, but any sounds she did make were swallowed by the blanket of space.

She wasn’t disturbed by this turn of events. A disconnected voice in her head commented on how remarkable all of this was. Though the Aesir were wanderers by reputation, space was considered a void, lacking in resources or colonizing footholds. No songs had been written about the beauty of it all.

_ Frigga.  _ Her name came to her last, and now she keenly understood, remembered that she was not dead.

Long ago, a premonition of destruction came to her and she’d vacated her physical form, banished herself from Asgard. She donned her helm of feathers, which granted her passage through the realms and their roads. It was a feat of magic rarely done, for the price was what she treasured most- the love she had for the world. It must have been difficult, when she was casting the spell, to even consider such a price. Now she found herself indifferent at best to all that remained in the physical realm.

Except...

“Mother,” someone said. That was impossible in space, but not in her mind. Frigga closed her eyes, to focus on the small voice, her third child. Reaching out, she could only touch the voice, she couldn’t see a form.

“Loki,” she responded, and the voice trembled within her reach. “My child, I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you too,” Loki said.

“Something troubles you.”

“There’s no point saying,” Loki said. “Dreams aren’t for pity.”

“Perhaps this is no dream,” Frigga said. “Are you hurt?”

“My power is… diminished somehow,” Loki muttered. “I don’t understand it, though I try. I wish you could help me.”

She remembered he thought she was dead. So thorough was the illusion even he had been fooled. She reached further towards him, felt his deep sigh, the sadness which lay heavy on his chest.

“I’m sorry I said those things to you,” he said. “I wish I hadn’t. I don’t know why I must….”

His thoughts became muddled and thorny, and it hurt to try and divine them. She could distinctly see the awl and the thread now, lashings of blood.

“They were just words, child, not even magic ones,” she said. His mind quieted a little. “Your sleep must not be troubled by this. Forget it.”

Frigga reached to him one more time, a final time.

“I must go. Sleep well.”

No response. Perhaps he was already deeper in the realm of dreams. He said his power was diminished, but he had single handedly jolted her from the veil of indifference. She could feel emotion, deep concern and regret. It would be prudent to find a planet she could land on before she started to shimmer into reality. She looked up at the planets she could see, and chose a deep blue one with many islands.

* * *

Preparing for the journey was the hardest part. Loki, a spontaneous traveller, disliked arranging with people he needed to visit, and hated making itineraries. But Thor was insistent.

“We need to know where you are so we can contact you,” he said. “As the spaceship moves around and all. Heimdall’s eyes have been less sharp since Asgard was destroyed, so he won’t be able to pinpoint your position effectively.”

“I could establish a psychic link, that would be far easier,” Loki said.

“I’m not letting you into my mind, Loki,” Thor declined with a finality Loki knew better than to challenge.

“Very well,” he said. “You will have an itinerary. I feel like some Midgardian school child abroad for the first time. I suppose Valkyrie is meant to be my chaperone, keep my nose clean?”

“That would be nice,” Thor said. “But I know that’s not Val.”

A silence passed between them.

“I dreamt of mother last night,” Loki said quietly.

“A good sign?” Thor said hopefully. He didn’t have many dreams of note, saving the premonitions of Asgard’s fall before the fact, and as such he didn’t understand them very well.

“I know not,” Loki said. “It was… a self-serving dream, I thought. To put my mind at ease. Perhaps a reminder about what it is to teach. She was endlessly patient. I did not inherit that. Of course, I inherited nothing from her.”

“I don’t think so,” Thor shook his head. “If she was here, she would also refute that claim.”

_ But she isn’t,  _ Loki thought.

He hugged his brother before he headed back to his chambers to finish packing. It had been long since he’d imagined talking to Frigga, and the past night’s dream brought up memories and feelings he wished he could index in a box, for examination but not use.

“You’re quiet today, Silvertongue,” Valkyrie said, and Loki wondered where she picked up the nickname. Of course he knew people whispered, and it was nearly impossible to ignore them.

“I think my brother the  _ King _ wishes to be rid of me for a while.”

“You don’t think that,” Valkyrie laughed, tossing another (?) breastplate into her traveling chest. “Without you to stir the pot, what would his days even be filled with?”

“Ah yes, Loki Pot-stirrer,” Loki said. “One of my lesser known titles.”

“Do you have many?”

“As many as I have faces,” Loki tossed his red hair. “Hard to keep track. Do you have any?”

“Yes,” Valkyrie said after a pause. “They used to call me the Coward.”

They finished packing in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, I can be reached at fingalruche.tumblr.com


	7. The Coward And The Enchantress

**Chapter Seven**

Rota was the name Val would allow herself to remember. Not her name, but that of her shield sister. When they were younger, before the great war which had decimated their ranks and turned outlaws of them all, Rota had made Val promise that she would always remember her, even beyond death. And Val, though she’d tried on Sakaar to forget her honour, could not forget this promise. Rota’s name was enshrined in her mind.

Val remembered the days before that battle, when Rota had tied a lock of her hair into Val’s helmet, and promised her love, as though they were going to see the week through. Val’s heart still hurt from this. She wished she had the bravery to tell Rota that she felt the same way. It was in this that the name ‘Coward’ had been earned, though the Aesir would never know, because they had never cared to.

When she’d returned to Asgard, they hadn’t let her enscribe Rota’s name into the small memorial they’d made. And then they denied her access to the great dining hall where the warriors ate.

She didn’t realize she was so old that the people who would even remember her return had likely shuttled away the thoughts of Asgard’s defeat to bask in their continued glory. She could start over, be a warrior again. But she was not. She was accompanying Loki on an ill-defined journey, because she wanted to learn magic. Selfish? Perhaps. She would have to see in the coming days.

Then there was the matter of the Norns, who did remember her, and not fondly. They thought Loki was on the way to fulfil a prophecy, and getting him off the ship was the first step, surely. Val was helping them, even when she’d only tried to help herself.

Thor granted them a small shuttle, the  _ Syccorax _ , for their journey through the great void. Space frightened Val in ways she couldn’t quite articulate. Without the passageways Yggdrasil provided, Loki also seemed a little hesitant, though Val was was sure there were tricks he had learned to navigate without the aid of Asgard’s central power.

“I will hope to hear from you when you reach your first destination,” Thor said. Loki nodded. “I will pray for your safe return.”

“To whom do you pray?” Loki asked wanly. “Aren’t  _ we _ the gods?”

“I ask the spirits of those who came before.”

Thor met Val’s eyes squarely. She looked away, uncomfortable, and boarded the ship. Loki and Thor looked as though they still had some business. She hadn’t tried talking to Rota since her love had been consigned to dust. There was no point to it.

Loki came on board soon after, setting his trunk carefully on the deck. Then he looked around with an air of confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Val asked.

“The Norns visited me but once, and now we’re about to leave them. Usually they make an effort to come thrice,” Loki explained.

“One of the Norns visited me, as well,” Val offered. “So that’s twice.”

“Indeed,” Loki said. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing of import. She called me rude.”

“I wonder if they visited Thor as well,” Loki said. “There is some part of this which is their doing. I can feel it. Magic and hypocrisy in the doings of the Aesir, yet again, while my powers run thin.”

“The sooner we leave this place, the less likely they’ll come to bother us again,” Val reasoned. He nodded, conceding her point, and sat at the control panel of the  _ Syccorax. _

“How do you suppose this blasted thing works? These machines from Sakaar are not intuitive at all,” he muttered.

“Move over, Blue,” Val said.

“I’m not blue anymore, couldn’t you call me by my name?”

“No,” Val shook her head, and looked over the controls. “Okay, so here we go.”

She punched a couple of buttons, turned a dial, and suddenly they were aloft.

“Why don’t I drive?”

“That might be wise,” Loki agreed. “I would try to rule this thing with magic, but technology is often hampered by my tricks, not helped.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Into space they embarked, farther away from the space barge which constituted their homeland now. Loki, for the first time in a while, was properly looking at the stars. It used to be that he knew the constellations over Asgard, but these ones were new, with arcane meanings and stories which he wouldn’t have occasion to divine until later, if they were even in these parts when they returned.

He thought of their mission, the quest to find Valkyrie a teacher. An exciting prospect, though he had to comb his memory fine to think of past teachers he hadn’t injured or fatally insulted. Loki wondered how he had managed to upset so many proficient in magic arts, and remain alive.

“So who is this first person we’re going to?”

“A master of potion and poison,” Loki said. “I daresay your first problem may be the conceptual aspect of magic. If you are working with physical matter imbued by its own magic, then you might have a better time grasping the cause and effect.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Val said. Loki nodded.

“I just hope she’ll be receptive,” he said. “We left on bad terms.”

“Is there a shorter list of people you haven’t pissed off that we could go to for magic tuition?” Val asked. “Because I don’t want to be fighting any more poindexters than I really need to.”

“I’m afraid it is the nature of most of my partings,” Loki said. “Someone tries to kill me, or else I try to kill them. But after a few centuries, I daresay the rough edges have smoothed over. Nobody holds a grudge that long.”

“Your sister did,” Val pointed out.

“Yes, well,” Loki said. “Amora can be reasoned with. I think. I hope.”

“Did you break this sorceress’ heart?”

“No,” Loki said, far too quickly for Val to believe him. “In any case, she may not be angry at this form.”

“All right,” Valkyrie said.

They came across a lonely planet, far from any star, the deepest shade of green. It was so dark Val could barely see it, could only map out its mass with the absence of stars. Loki sighed, and nodded.

“That’s the place,” he said. “I’ll send a hail, so she expects us before we land. I sent her a message before, but we may have arrived faster than my spell.”

He pulled a necklace from under his tunic, and clasped the charm, a iridescent feather.

“Hear me, Amora,” he intoned. “Loki requests your hospitality.”

“I heard you the first time,” an irritated voice responded. “I wish you wouldn’t invite yourself over, after all these years, but I am bound to host those who visit my sanctum. Who is your companion? She has an old aspect.”

“She is the reason I’m here,” Loki said.

“So much for catching up with old friends,” Amora rejoined. “Well, dock your ship if you must. A path has been lit for your landing. What on earth are you wearing? What is that new face of yours?”

“That’s on-planet talk,” Loki said. “It’s a very long story, I fear.”

“Have you any short stories?” Amora asked, and disconnected. They descended in silence, following a path of lantern-like lights which hung in the planet’s sky. Led to an island, Valkyrie landed the  _ Syccorax  _ and let go of the controls, which she had been throttling in an attempt to get a good landing. Loki nodded at her, and she sighed.

“Here we are, the first teacher,” she said. “Anything I should know, apart from the fact that you broke her heart?”

“No, it will all be a marvelous surprise. I haven’t warned her about you, either.”

_ “Warned?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck YES it's Amora.
> 
> fingalruche.tumblr.com is where you can find me!
> 
> ALSO Please read Chapter Five. I realize only now that I didn't actually post it, but it was in drafts. my bad.


	8. Proper Little Witches

**Chapter Eight**

Amora greeted them as they left the  _ Syccorax _ . Her smile was dangerous, and Val got the distinct impression that she could have been the toast of high society on Sakaar.

“Good heavens, Loki,” she laughed. “You look like a proper little witch.”

“I’m  _ not  _ a witch,” Loki said. “This is the form for which my body has been fond, as of late.”

“I think you’re quite fetching like this,” Amora said, and grasped Loki’s hand, looking into his eyes while she did. Loki blinked, and withdrew his hand.

“Let me introduce you to Valkyrie,” he said, and Amora turned her deep gaze to Val. She felt as though she were being dissected from the inside out, but despite the discomfort Val found it very difficult to look away. Finally Amora shifted her glance to a strategic spot on Val’s forehead.

“You’ve nothing to fear from me, Valkyrie,” she assured. “If travelling with Loki gives you no pause, then what danger could  _ I _ possibly pose?”

That seemed like a warning in its own right, but Valkyrie smiled.

“It’s good to meet you,” she said.

“Let’s to dinner, then, loves,” Amora said, and Valkyrie suddenly found herself in a well-appointed dining room. “Loki, you still cannot savour the taste of meat, yes?”

“Yes,” Loki said.

“I didn’t know what your companion would like, so I got a little of everything,” Amora continued. “Do help yourselves. I would have a servant do it, but I’m afraid I’ve been light on help since I moved to this planet.”

“So you  _ cooked? _ ” Loki asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Amora scoffed, but didn’t explain the bounty of food any further.

In spite of her misgivings for their host, Val had to admit it was quite the spread, and the table was even appointed with vases of strange looking flowers. She helped herself to a proper amount of dumplings, with sticky sauces to accompany them. Loki also ate, picking from the great bowl of salad in the middle of the banquet table and then a bowl of green rice as well. There was drink too, not the strongest stuff, but a good quality and warming after their travels and space.

“When I heard of Asgard’s fall, I thought you might have died,” Amora said to Loki, who shrugged, and swallowed a spoonful of rice.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he apologized, not all that serious.

“Yes, it sounds like everyone got out alive,” Amora said, and then her smile faded. “Excepting Skurge.”

“Oh,” Loki said, and dropped his cutlery as his fingers spasmed once, and then stopped working.

“Oh,” Amora agreed. “I wouldn’t eat any more of that rice, dear. It’s poisoned.”

“Of course it is,” Loki said.

“I hope you’re serious about learning potions,” Amora told Val. “Your travel companion is in dire need of an antidote.”

Val was starting to think magic made assholes of everyone.

“Did you poison me?” she asked.

“What would be the point of that?” Amora laughed. “Come now, you’re a clever sort, and I’ve already given you everything you need to help Loki, back when I set the table.”

“It’s true,” Loki said.

“Well, then tell me what I need to give you,” Val said, flustered.

“I would, but some sort of magic prevents me from saying,” Loki said.  Amora winked at Val.

“Can you give me a hint?”

“Can you give me the antidote, before my heart stops?” Loki countered, and Val nearly screamed. Was that vein in his forehead pulsing because he was angry, or because the poison had fevered his blood?

Val focused on the banquet table. The plates of food, innocuous as ever, surely concealed an antidote, but Val had no idea what she was even looking for, let alone what it would look like. Amora’s face was pleasantly blank while Val surveyed her options.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself. “The rice is what poisoned you, I know that.”

She took a spoonful of the green rice and smelled it. When she rubbed a grain between her fingers, it didn’t irritate her skin. A mad thought- taste it. But, that was surely counter-productive, she knew what would happen if she ingested the poison. On the other hand, there was no proof that this was even poison, apart from the fact that Amora said it was.

“There’s no antidote, because there’s no poison,” she finally said. “This is only a spell.”

“Um,” Loki said.

“Are you confident that is the case?” Amora asked. Val nodded, and swallowed a spoonful of the rice. “I like this one, Loki. I like her instincts.”

“Was I right?” Val asked, and dropped her spoon as her fingers spasmed.

“Not even close,” Amora said, and plucked a pod of seeds from one of the flower arrangements on the table. “But you certainly have promise, and so I will spare you both. Eat this.”

The single seed immediately lifted the effects, and Val looked at Loki.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry, that was a dirty trick,” Loki huffed, flexing his fingers. “I think you did quite well with the information you were given.”

“A compliment?” Amora exclaimed. “I had heard about how Loki Liesmith had more wholesome pursuits of late, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it until this moment.”

“I am not so changed, Amora,” Loki promised. “You needn’t put on your mourning weeds just yet.”

“And I’m just as surprised as you about the compliment,” Val added. “He hasn’t gone completely soft.”

“I haven’t gone soft at all!” Loki protested.

“You’re a little soft,” Val said, making a gesture with her fingers to indicate. “Like before a camoni fruit gets really nice for baking.”

“Oh, yes, that’s exactly it,” Amora agreed. “You’re still starchy and stringy in places, but give it a couple of days, and you’ll be perfect cake material. Valkyrie, would you like some tea?”

“Is it poisoned?” Val asked, seriously, and then they both laughed. “Just kidding. I would love something a little stronger, if you have it. And you can call me Val.”

_ “What,”  _ Loki said, still stung at being called starchy. “You said only your friends call you Val.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Val nodded, while Amora laughed.

“How long are you planning to stay, delightful creature?” she asked, hand brushing against Val’s cheek.

“As long as it takes me to learn potions, I guess,” Val said. Amora grinned.

“Then I will be sure to teach you very slowly,” she promised.

Loki was nonplussed by this turn of events. He hadn’t expected Amora and Valkyrie to get on so famously, though it shouldn’t have surprised him. Amora was congenial when she wanted to be, and living on this planet must have made her very lonely.

Valkyrie turned in early, tired from piloting the  _ Syccorax.  _ Amora left briefly to show her to her room, and then returned, sitting with Loki, who was nursing a cup of tea.

“I am glad you yet live,” she said. “It would have been a sorry existence, to be the last magic user of note in the galaxies.”

“Thank you. I’m glad I live as well,” Loki responded.

“That said, you are very changed,” Amora continued, and offered him a tray of cookies, which he declined. “Even on your worst day, once upon a time you weren’t so easy to poison. Did the destruction of the World Tree disarm you so?”

“I fear it,” Loki admitted, and felt strange saying the truth out loud. Amora nodded, deeply troubled. “I feel like something has been dammed up in me. Like the tree itself has fallen across the river of my power.”

“I can sense it,” Amora said quietly. “Even without touching you, I could sense it. Does it hurt you?”

“Yes,” Loki said. “I feel stagnant. I can’t change, at least the way I could before.”

“Oh Loki,” Amora said. “I wish I could help.”

“I don’t think it can be helped,” Loki said. “But if you want to try, I would permit you.”

“You would let me in here?” Amora said, touching Loki’s temple gently. “You would need to drop the barriers you have against me.”

“So you know about them.”

“I’m not offended, darling,” Amora said. “I’ve done the same to protect from you, of course. We’re both such dangerous people. But I have to say, I wish I could have heard from you before today. Will you promise to keep in touch, when you and your charming companion have taken your leave of this planet?”

“Of course,” Loki nodded. “Would you tell me why you’ve chosen to live here? I thought you would have come to Midgard.”

“Yes,” Amora said. “I thought I would go to Midgard, as well. But I needed some space. And now I find myself in possession of a surfeit of space.”

“Perhaps I can visit,” Loki said.

“Not too often,” Amora said, and blinked. “Now relax. This won’t be a moment.”

Loki lowered his defenses, and then he felt her enter his mind. It was a strange sensation, and he’d hadn’t felt it for so long.

_ Oh yes, here you are,  _ Amora said, standing in the eddies of Loki’s power.  _ I’ve missed this. _

_ Me too,  _ Loki said, and his physical body shuddered when she leant down to scoop up some of his magic.

_ It even feels different,  _ Amora frowned.  _ What feats have you managed since the tree fell? _

_ Marginal tricks. Controls,  _ Loki admitted.  _ No occasion has called for something greater. _

_ The learning is all there, and the practice. No degradation in form, and you’re just as clever as you’ve always been, but…  _ Amora trailed off.  _ You’re right, it is just like a dam. There is something which redirects your control. I don’t know what could cause this. Did you want me to get out now? _

Loki nodded, and gasped as she pulled out of his mind. These sessions could always be exhausting, but for some reason, he was especially spent now. Amora was looking at him with concern, and he looked away.

“I didn’t ask for your pity,” he said. “Only your diagnosis.”

“We were all affected by Yggdrasil’s destruction. It struck to the core of our craft,” she said. “But something saps your energy, and I’m afraid I cannot find what.”

“That’s not good,” Loki muttered.

“Were you hoping for good news?”

“I rarely do,” Loki said, and felt a headache coming on. He closed his eyes, and allowed Amora to play with his hair.

“You are safe while you remain here,” Amora said. “Hidden from the eyes of many. I pledge it.”

“What have I done to warrant your protection?”

“Very little,” Amora said. “But we were once great friends. Consider this a token for old times’ sake.”

She kissed him gently on the forehead.

“One day, I may be in straits as dire as yours, and I will want a favour,” she whispered. “But don’t worry about that just now. For now you must rest.”

It was much easier to think of rest when Amora suggested it. Loki didn’t know whether this was due to enchantment, but soon he was asleep on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, you can find me at fingalruche.tumblr.com


	9. A Democracy In Asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late, folks. Work has been crazy.

**Chapter Nine**

Amora was a hard one to pin down. Val didn’t know what else she expected from someone who could tangle with Loki when he was at his most mischievous. Val was mildly alarmed by her desperate urge to please her new potions teacher. It wasn’t clear whether this was a glamour of Amora’s or else a natural attraction which had sprung up between them. Here was the one sure thing- Amora seemed to want to help, and though she was possibly quite wicked, her help was invaluable.

“Loki told me there were no stances in magic making,” Val said in their first meeting together. Amora scoffed.

“Never ask a genius to teach you a craft,” she said. “Of course there are stances. The bloody fool was liable to communicate all his bad habits and none of his clever tricks to you.”

“He has bad habits, then.”

“Scores of them,” Amora said. “And once you’ve learned a little, you’ll be able to see them and avoid them. Here are some books. Read from them what you will, though I’ve marked the especially useful bits for you.”

“Thank you,” Val said.

“Now let’s get our hands into potions,” Amora said. She had a cauldron set out, already bubbling with something or other, a mortar and pestle, and a few small sharp knives. “You remember this?”

It was the seed which saved Val from poison in the rice the other night. She nodded.

“When we prepare it as a tincture, it becomes much more useful than it is in a flower arrangement,” Amora said, leaning over Val’s shoulder. Her golden hair tickled Val’s cheek, but Val didn’t mind. “Bruise the pod a little before splitting it open.”

Val did so, and winced when she broke the pod before getting a chance to bruise it.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Amora said. “We have more. You’re quite a bit stronger than I am, aren’t you?”

“Okay,” Val said. “Before we go any farther, I have to let you know I’m accounted for.”

It wasn’t really a lie, though half-truths seemed like something Amora could detect as well. But she nodded, and gave Val a little space.

“I am sorry,” Amora said. “It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s all good. Honestly, I’m flattered,” Val said. People used to flirt with her all the time at Sakaar, but they usually wanted something when they did. She could tell Amora had a different end in mind.

“It must be a very special person,” Amora said. Val’s grin faded, and she looked down.

“She was,” she said. “She died.”

“Oh darling,” Amora said. “I am sorry to hear that.”

“I know that you can’t bring people back from the dead with magic. Well, shouldn’t,” Val said. “But is there any way to see someone after? Just for a few minutes.”

“There are a few methods of which I know,” Amora said. “I’ll look into it for you.”

“Thank you.”

Loki was conspicuously absent from their sessions. When Val did see him, he was often lounged about, reading. Lazy, she thought, but didn’t say it. They got word from Thor a week into their stop at Amora’s planet.

_ Hello, Loki and Valkyrie, my shield-siblings from now until ever!  _ It read.  _ I hope you are well, wherever you might be. It appears you are shielded by Heimdall’s eye, and the Norns are also having a difficult time pinpointing where you might be, which I hope explains the delay in this correspondence. _

_ So here’s the situation at New Asgard (Do you like that? We’re trying to find a proper name for the place): We are attempting some democratic processes here on the spaceship. Korg assures me that now’s the best time to shift the monarchy over into something less functional, more constitutional, and Heimdall and I are drafting a bill of rights for the citizens of our spaceship! Citizens, not subjects! Rights! Wow! _

_ There are some people who really liked when the monarchy was functional, and there were subjects and treason and the like. Actually, this is pretty funny- my main detractors would contend that I’m  _ **_not_ ** _ Thor, but you in disguise, Loki! I told them that was ridiculous, but they said that’s what you would say, and that you’ve already pretended to be King a couple times now, so it makes sense. _

_ Without Mjolnir, it’s difficult to clear up that I am in fact me, so this theory has kind of gotten out of hand. So if, at some time this week, you could appear to my political opponents in a dream or something so as to prove that you’re not pretending to be me in order to affect a democratic push in New Asgard (Honestly I kind of hate the name. Will take suggestions) that would be great. _

_ Anyway, that’s what’s up with me. Hope the magic learning is going okay. Write back if you’re able. _

Loki sighed, and folded the paper before putting it in his pocket. Val blinked.

“So are you going to prove to everyone that you’re not pretending to be Thor?”

“Seeing as he asked so nicely, I suppose I must,” Loki sighed. “Far be it for me to stall the democratic processes on New Asgard.”

He paused, and then laughed.

“But I will certainly take my time sending word back,” he said. “It sounds like Thor is having a most interesting time. I just wish I could be there, to see all the bill of rights drafting.”

“A democracy in Asgard?” Amora said, looking over Loki’s shoulders while she squeezed them a little. “How disappointing. Here I was thinking one day I would just marry my way into power and money.”

“That’s still an option,” Loki said, looking up with a quirk of his eyebrows. “Princes are still fabulously wealthy in constitutional monarchies.”

“That better be a promise,” Amora said. “You flirt.”

Val sighed, looking away. Loki and Amora’s rapport was so effortless, so practiced, that it was easy to become bored by it all. And then she felt something shift in the atmosphere of the room, looked back. Amora pressed her hand against Loki’s temple with a frown.

“Loki,” she said. “Loki, come back to me.”

“What’s wrong?” Val asked. Loki had turned to his Jotunn form, but his red eyes were fixed on a point beyond the room. When Val got closer to him, she could feel something, something leaving in a hurry.

“Can you carry him?” Amora asked. “I won’t be able to.”

“Easy,” Val said, and hoisted Loki into her arms.

“Good,” Amora said. “Follow me.”

Deep beneath Amora’s house, there were vines and moss, sustained by their own feeble light. Amora pointed to a patch of plants.

“Lay him there,” she said, and Val obeyed, watching the plants creep toward him. “The plants will preserve what he has left.”

“What’s happened?”

“Something has been draining him, but it wasn’t like this before,” Amora said. “I should have done this right away, and for this I am sorry.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Val asked tentatively. Loki appeared to sleep, but he wasn’t changing as he did before. He seemed too still.

“I can’t determine that,” Amora frowned. “But this will stall the damage, and make it easier to wake him up.”

“How do we wake him up?” Val asked, and saw Amora’s look. “You don’t know, do you?”

“The best way I can think of would mean stemming the drain on his power, but I haven’t any idea how to do that,” Amora admitted. “Except to completely disconnect him from his magic, which is a risky procedure when one depends on it as much as he does. If I did it, this garden would be the only thing keeping him alive.”

“If you did that,” Val said, and hesitated. “Whatever, whoever is using his power would think he was dead. And then they would have to stop, wouldn’t they?”

Amora nodded, clearly thinking.

“It would be painful,” she said. “For him. He wouldn’t know why, at first.”

“But it would help him.”

Amora nodded again, and grit her teeth.

“He will hate me terribly,” she said. “But you’re right. It will help him.”

“What can I do?”

“Hold a watch. Make sure nothing moves him from this spot,” Amora said. Val nodded, and sat by Loki. Amora said a few words in a very old language, and placed her hand against Loki’s forehead. “I am sorry, beloved.”

Suddenly, the currents of energy which passed through Loki and rushed past Val stopped altogether. A deep exhale, and then Loki was terribly still. Val looked at Amora, who was gazing intently into Loki’s eyes, before she closed them.

“Rest,” she said softly, and turned to Val. “I thank you for your diligent eye. Watch him, while I attempt to find what is rummaging through his mind.”

She lay down beside Loki, and touched his forehead again. Instantly, she was also still, and Valkyrie was alone in the room.


	10. Mother To A Tree

**Chapter Ten**

Amora didn’t enjoy this. Loki’s mind, usually well-appointed for the wayward traveller, was stripped to bare essentials. When Amora said his name, there was nobody to answer, just a reverberation deep in the silence. She waited for the sound of the intruders, the thieves who were causing such trouble to begin with. And when she heard them, she trapped one of their energies, just to see who it was.

_ Gods _ , she muttered, and they disappeared. This wasn’t good. She would have to tell Val and Loki, possibly even the King of Asgard, if he wasn’t complicit. But first, she needed to awaken Loki.

His energy would have been imperceptible if she hadn’t known where to look, but she found the small part of him that was left, and held it in her hands.

_ Hello again, _ she said. The form in her hands trembled.  _ I wish I could have told you what I was doing. I’m sorry that I didn’t. But I am not here to hurt you. I’m here to bring you back. _

_ Hurts,  _ the part left of Loki said.

_ You’ll see, it’s not all hurt,  _ Amora promised, and hoped she was right.

She returned, physical hands still cupped as though she was holding that which was most precious to Loki. Loki was still lying quite still, but his eyes blinked different colours, which was a good sign. Val watched them, eyes wide, and pointed.

“He’s sprouting,” she said. Amora looked at the small vines which grew from the corners of Loki’s lips.

“Strange,” she said. Loki was full of surprises today, and she couldn’t say she was very pleased about it. “Loki, can you hear me?”

Loki looked at her and managed a small sound which could have been an affirmation, and lucky she was the optimistic type.

“All right, we’re going to sit up now,” Amora said, and Loki nodded, a far less ambiguous sign of life to be certain. He blinked, and with stiff fingers, mimed writing. “Just a minute. Your fingers yet lack dexterity.”

He huffed, but nodded. He didn’t seem at all perturbed about the plants growing from his mouth, in fact he seemed to take it better than Amora or Val, who looked rather as though she was going to be ill.

“Is this magic?” she asked queasily.

“I’m afraid that sometimes magic isn’t even this pleasant,” Amora admitted. “This is old seidr. Older than you, Loki. I will be thrilled to hear exactly how you managed this.”

Loki shrugged expansively. Apparently it was just as much a mystery to him. Eventually, he could hold a pen in his hands, and wrote.

_ Very little of this is my doing,  _ said his beautiful script. Amora rolled her eyes, and passed the note to Valkyrie, who was looking anywhere but the plants.

“But why are you sprouting?” she asked, and gave Loki back the pad.

_ Jotnar have a good deal of internal heat, though they run quite cold. I can be an adequate nursery for wayward plants when I want to be, though in this case someone dearly wanted it  _ _ for _ _ me. Someone with a little more forethought than I- these are viable clippings of Yggdrasil, planted I know not when. _

“And you didn’t know about this until now?”

_ I had an inkling, but I didn’t think I would be the mother to a tree,  _ Loki wrote, and then coughed. The greenery in his mouth dislodged somewhat, and he cupped it in his hands. “Well, a glorified greenhouse really.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Valkyrie said. “I would rather not learn how to do any of this.”

“This is under the purview of creating life, Valkyrie,” Loki said. “And there are none who could teach you this, even if they wanted to. I need soil, Amora. Have you any from Asgard?”

“No,” Amora said. “Will Vanaheim do?”

“In a pinch.”

Amora left briefly, and returned tottering under the weight of a large flower pot, which she set delicately beside Loki. He dug a small hole, and set the plant down with a few old words. The plant, glowing, took to the soil quite well.

“I suppose this is what was sapping my energy?” he asked Amora, who hesitated.

“You would suppose incorrectly,” she said. “The Norns have been taking your power. I glimpsed them when I was in your mind.”

Loki nodded, surprisingly placid in the face of this news. Then he stood up, left the patch of green he’d been sitting on, and yelled once, very loudly. Valkyrie was sure she would have done the same.

“Ages, literal ages of telling me I’m not good enough,” he said between clenched teeth. “That I… perverted the art they sought to protect. And they leech off of me as though they are entitled. I would be laughing.”

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Amora asked. “It’s not every day you humble your enemies in such a manner.”

“I suppose,” Loki said, and Valkyrie nearly scoffed at his easy appeasement. “It does feel good, to be the best.”

“Oh ye gods,” Valkyrie said, throwing her hands up. Amora rolled her eyes and knocked Loki on the head, once and lightly.

“I never said you were the best,” she said. “Because that would be underselling myself significantly. Nonetheless, I propose there is nothing to be done except to continue in our exploits. The Norns are treacherous, which isn’t usual for them. They’ll be sniffed out.”

Even when she was in the middle of them, court intrigues had never captivated Amora. She preferred the alchemical subtleties of a poison a climber might simply use to get somebody inconvenient out of the way. And murder had lost its appeal long ago. But Loki couldn’t help but be embroiled in Asgardian mysteries. It was almost a part of who he was at this point. This time he nodded, and turned to Valkyrie.

“Let’s learn wards,” he said.

Loki mused that his first thought should have been to teach Valkyrie how to protect herself against magical incursions. It was one of the first things Frigga had taught him, in the space between her private lessons and the Norns finally taking him as a student. She had shown him the hand gestures, and then gently shaped his smaller hands so he could see what it would look like if he did it right.

“Why do I need to protect myself?” he asked. How trusting he had been, once upon a time.

“It’s always better to know how, even when you are safe,” Frigga said gently. And he took solace in that, the notion that he was safe.

Just thinking of the Norns made his insides wobble, like when he was young and scared of attracting their ire. How long had they been dipping into his stores of power, stockpiling in case of magical disaster?

Those feelings weren’t useful. He put them away for now, and showed Valkyrie the proper hand gestures, and then, with her permission, shaped her fingers so they matched.

“If you know this, you can protect against most anything that would interfere with you or your powers,” he said.

“But not the Norn.”

“No,” Loki said. “Not the Norn. But if you are a mite clever, and I think you are, you will miss their attentions altogether.”

Valkyrie smiled, clearly a little relieved. For his part, Loki swallowed the rest of his darker suppositions, and let himself believe what he had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I would put a chapter in early after getting in late last week! find me at fingalruche.tumblr.com


	11. HULK HATE BRUSHING TEETH

**Chapter Eleven**

Thor didn’t feel especially relieved when the Norns, all three of them, filed into his room and announced that the evil had been vanquished.

“Uh,” he said. Thor didn’t share Loki’s animosity for the Norns, but they did unnerve him at the best of times. “That’s good. Which, which evil was that one?”

“Your presumed brother, who hid like a snake in the outer reaches of space,” one of the women said, not without some marked smugness. “Loki Scarlip, Progenitor of Monsters, who plotted against your power, and hoarded what was left of the World Tree within his person.”

Thor didn’t want to offend the Norns, but it sounded as though they thought they’d killed him. Which would be. Quite hard. Instead, he nodded, and stroked his beard.

“Thanks for that,” he said. “It appears I was not aware of my brother’s full treachery. You say he was hiding the World Tree?”

The middle Norn held out her hand, and when she handed it to him, Thor could see what looked to be a very small sprout of a kind, dotted with blood. Alarmed, he looked at Heimdall, who gave him an inscrutable look. They would discuss this later, then.

“Now we can begin to rebuild the seat of Asgard’s power in earnest,” the Norn said.

“I do thank you,” Thor said. This was the best way to get rid of favour-seekers, in his experience. “You’ve given me much to think about.”

He waited until they were safely gone, and turned to Heimdall.

“What the fuck,” he said. Heimdall nodded.

“Indeed.”

“ _ Is _ Loki dead?”

“Frankly, I don’t think Loki is so easily dispatched,” Heimdall said, and tapped the side of his glasses, as though that would help his vision. “I can’t locate him or Valkyrie.”

“He is in the company of Amora the Enchantress, who would yet hide from you,” Thor said.

“Ah,” Heimdall said. “Yes, that would explain it. So we know not if Loki is alive or dead, especially if he is subject to the Enchantress’ hospitality.”

“I would know,” Thor said, though he doubted even as the words passed his lips. He had not known the last few times. “And what of this?”

He held the sprout in his hands still. Heimdall considered it.

“It is of Loki,” he said. “As to their other claim, that this is a piece of Yggdrasil…” he hesitated. “It’s not the strangest thing he’s birthed.”

“This isn’t like the others,” Thor said. “He didn’t know of this, or else he didn’t let on.”

“Quite a precious secret,” Heimdall said. “Perhaps something he kept for leverage, as in this magicless time.”

That  _ did  _ sound like Loki, but without his sibling to explain, Thor was reluctant to jump to conclusions. And the magic aspect of this latest intrigue confounded and eluded him. It never seemed fair that the Norns were the sole protectors of Yggdrasil, but surely Loki was not a better custodian of the tree’s power.

“Getting back to what we were talking about,” Heimdall said, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “Proving you are you.”

“According to the Norns now, I can’t be Loki because he is dead,” Thor said hopefully.

“But if Loki is alive, and he were to  _ emerge  _ \-- as well you know he can -- during the worst possible time,” Heimdall said, “Your legitimacy would be thrown into question once more. And then the legitimacy of the Norn. And then who knows what next.”

Thor made a very unkingly noise and resisted sinking into his throne. He was getting a headache again. The healers assured him that the frequency of these headaches were more likely to do with stress than losing an eye, but one had come so close after the other that Thor still wasn’t sure.

“We can delegitimize the rumours by continuing our work,” Heimdall said. “It doesn’t matter if you prove your are Thor. The monarchists will find something else to take issue with. A technicality of succession, perhaps, it matters not. What does matter is this bill of rights.”

“You’re right,” Thor said, resigned.

“If I didn’t know better, I would say you welcome the monarchists’ diversions as a distraction from our present purpose,” Heimdall said wryly.

“No! I just don’t like being told I’m not me,” Thor protested. “I  _ am  _ me. And as me, I would finish this job, so let’s get to it. I guess. Call in the committee.”

Korg, Miek, and the Hulk were summoned to the throne room. Korg and Miek were a package deal, though most valuable contributions came from the former. The Hulk was here because he had actually lived in a democracy, and possibly had insight on the pitfalls of the system after years as the target of government endorsed persecution. Unfortunately, any attempt to coax significant contribution from the Hulk was a bit of a non-starter. Thor sometimes wished for Banner.

“We should probably get started on voting,” Korg said, after Miek established the agenda and began minutes.

“Shouldn’t we establish political offices first?” Thor suggested.

“Yeah, but how do we, as the people of New Asgard, determine what political offices we should have?” Korg said. “We have to vote on ‘em. Anyway, it’s good to get people in the habit. If voting is something you do every week or so, like brushing your teeth…”

“HULK HATE BRUSHING TEETH.”

“Of course, big guy, but you gotta, or else things start falling apart,” Korg said, and turned back to Thor. “You gotta get ‘em voting early and often is what I’m saying.”

“Hulk, what did you think of voting?” Thor asked.

“HULK NOT A VOTER. PUNY BANNER A FELON, SO RIGHT REVOKED.”

“Oh,” Thor said. “Is that something we should consider?”

“We don’t have a penal system,” Heimdall said. “And I don’t think we should build one before we have unalienable rights in place.”

“Here here,” Korg said. “That way the tyranny goeseth.”

“Okay,” Thor said. “So everyone gets to vote. How do we get everyone to vote?”

“Free food,” Korg volunteered immediately. Miek nodded, at least, Thor thought he nodded.

“Food’s already free,” Heimdall said.

“Aww what?”

“We don’t make someone pay for the bounty of Asgard, to share in the glory of our grand dinners,” Thor said. “Only circus performers and mercenaries take coin for their feats. Not the Aesir.”

“I would just like to say, your chefs are definitely taking  _ my _ coin for their feasts,” Korg said.

“Well, that’s a serious issue, and a flouting of our traditions. I’ll talk to Andhrimnir about it right away,” Thor said. “Miek, put in the minutes that I’m going to do that. Move it to new business.”

Miek definitely gave some sign of assent then.

“So if you’re Aesir, you can’t join the circus?” Korg asked.

“This is not a relevant line of questioning, Korg,” Heimdall said with the sigh of someone who was still dealing with ambient omniscience. He didn’t like to pull the relevance card very often. This was going to be one of the longer meetings.


	12. Coffee Is Midgard's Chief Export

**Chapter Twelve**

It took her longer to become a part of the galaxy’s fabric again, to find a form mortals were comfortable with again. At first she had manifested as a mist, difficult to disperse the colour of those hard little candies she remembered sucking when she was a young god. Most could not comprehend her sentience when she presented this way, and she replaced back into the galactic background again.

A memory came to her. She was more troubled by recollection most she knew she was someone with recollection.

“How do I really look, then?” her last child, first not of her blood, had cried. True anguish, the mortifying pain of the young, lit Loki’s face.

And she had done something she hoped she wouldn’t to her children. She lied and said ‘I know not,’ banishing the thought of a Jotun baby, brought to her along with the spoils of war. Her child now had no recourse but to cry.

“You are like your mother,” Frigga said. “I can change, as you do. It’s a gift. Find an appearance which suits your purposes.”

But she wasn’t completely like Loki. Her mutability had a different source altogether, though she could still change for such earthly purposes. And the more she thought the more she settled into a familiar form.

In the mirror sheen of the mercury rivers on this planet, she saw the face of her youngest child. It would do for her travels. Indeed, it was strangely fitting- Loki had been a wanderer, before he’d come home to stand by his brother’s side, as per Odin’s decree. Thor, while he had traveled, was always wont to come back before the end of a month. If Loki’s return hadn’t been ordered, he might have spent centuries away from Asgard.

_ (and he would have been better off for it) _

Something of his features in this strange place seemed to make sense. It was a comfort to have one of her children so close to her in facsimile; she could feel neither of them in her mental reach of the worlds around her, and she missed them.

She shrugged her helm of feathers close to her, and looked at the sky, wondering which direction to go to see another face, have a conversation. Vanity, a novel emotion she associated with godliness, tugged at her.  _ Find a follower _ , vanity said,  _ someone who honours thee _ .  _ Someone who honours thine day. _

* * *

 

The bronze magic netted in her hands, then crystallized like syrup into candy, and dissipated. Val did it again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, and then giggled when it bubbled up again, caramelizing into an orb. It had taken her practice, but Val was nothing if not persistent. From her grand settee, Amora laughed, putting a bookmark in her book.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “You’ve already got a distinctive style to it. Everyone’s ward looks different.”

“I was wondering about that,” Val said. “I thought I’d done it wrong.”

Loki’s wards shimmered and disappeared, a hidden shield. They were not at all like Val’s, whose colours were defiant and almost opaque.

“He didn’t bother telling you that it would be different for you,” Amora said, and scoffed. “He lacks the teaching gene.”

“Not like you,” Val said quietly, in spite of herself. Amora grinned, sipping her drink, something brown and fiercely aromatic.

“I’ve never been accused of being a bad teacher,” she said, and then her smile faded. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to flirt.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Val said quickly. 

“There’s something very ironic about this,” Amora said. “Despite my best efforts, me and my little planet has become a refuge for broken Aesir.”

“I’m not broken,” Val protested.

“Of course not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Amora didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked at Val and stood.

“When I plucked Loki from Svartalfheim,” she said. “And when I brought him from the brink of death, I swore to myself it would be the last time. I will help you, but I will not take you from the dark world to which you’ve consigned yourself. If I did that, I could be nothing less, and nothing more, than your savior.”

“I see,” Val said, stung. “Because Loki was worth the effort, right?”

“Loki’s gratitude is useful to me,” Amora said. “You’re an unknown quantity, and one far too precious to properly survey. I don’t ever want to size you up and see how you can be useful for me.”

“Why?”

Amora smiled, but didn’t answer before Loki came into the room. His red hair seemed wilder than usual, and there were dark rings under his eyes. He looked from Amora and Valkyrie, and then sat heavily at the long dining table.

“Hard night, my prince?” Amora asked.

“Dreams,” Loki said, by way of explanation. “I have never been good at interpreting them, and I’m afraid they trouble me.”

“Would you indulge me and try this?” Amora said, holding out her cup. “It won’t make you feel rested, but it will make you focused.”

“What is it?”

“One of my few Midgardian vices. Coffee.”

“Oh, yes please,” Val said, getting up to fill a cup from the carafe on the dining table. For now she was going to have to put the morning’s complicated conversation aside. Amora was a complicated woman to start with, and they were still subject to her hospitality, best not to sour her good will to them.

“I know about coffee,” Loki said, eyeing the beverage with great suspicion. “Thor loves it.”

“Drink it and gain a productive morning,” Amora said, and set her cup down. “Though I know that’s not really your style. I must to your ship and make sure you’ve got everything you need for your next journey.”

“We’re leaving?” Val asked sharply, as Amora left.

“The next teacher is a while away,” Loki said, and sipped his coffee, grimacing. “Dreadful taste.”

“And when did you make this decision?”

“You’ve learned a great deal from Amora,” Loki said, “I’m anxious to see what we can accomplish while the Norn think us dead.”

“Well, maybe I want to stay,” Val snapped.

“To what purpose?” Loki said, sipped again, and then realized. “You’re in love.”

“No,” Val said, not at all convincing even to her own ears. Loki snorted.

“She likes you,” he said. “A great deal more than she ever liked me.”

“Got a funny way of showing it,” Val said. “Isn’t she going to marry you and get rich?”

Loki laughed again, and then cradled his head while he contemplated his coffee.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “If you have anything to say to her, now would be the time. We’re leaving soon.”

“ _ You’re _ leaving soon,” Val corrected, and left the dining room.

She found Amora by the  _ Syccorax,  _ kneeling at a small etching at its curved wall. Her eyes were closed in concentration, and old words left her lips, in a syntax which tugged at Val’s memory. It was a protection spell, she realized, a potent one created specifically for the Valkyrior and their mounts. She didn’t want to interrupt, there was that old superstition about interrupting a witch’s spell. But Amora stopped herself, and then looked up at her. Val clenched her fists, and then let them relax.

“There’s a name I had, when I was beloved,” she said.

“Should I chance a guess?” Amora asked.

“If you did, and you were right…” Val trailed off.

“Then you would be beloved once more,” Amora said, and she was suddenly standing so close, hand on Val’s cheek. “Brunnhilde.”

When they kissed, the protection sigil began to glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! As usual, i can be found at fingalruche.tumblr.com


	13. Midgard's Longitude

**Chapter Thirteen**

Heimdall thinks in the present, and he is thinking in the future. His omniscience has been… lessened since Asgard’s descent, but he remains stretched across timelines, seeing events fold on their consequences. He wears spectacles now to keep him focused on the present, the birth of their new nation, the minting of a new government.

If he were to take off his glasses, Heimdall would see far too much, become consumed with the possibilities of this volatile time. It is not as simple as it was before, to see all and to correctly parse it for those in charge. When Heimdall was under Odin’s command, he had less to do, less to anticipate.

From the  _ Statesman’s _ bow, Heimdall can see Midgard’s great polar cap, and beside him, he can feel a great comfort wash over Thor, as though they have come home. There’s a great deal to do before Midgard becomes their home.

“Heimdall, hail Midgard’s government,” Thor says.

“Which one, your highness?”

“All of them,” Thor says. “Or… whichever ones which are in session. Tell them we are self-sustaining and will stay that way for the foreseeable future, but we come as refugees from Asgard, which has fallen.”

“And that we come in peace,” Korg says. “That’s very important. They might get the wrong idea if we don’t mention that.”

“Yes, we come in peace,” Thor says. “And have things to trade. Knowledge, technology, and the like.”

Heimdall writes the first draft of their hail, and Thor signs after reading it over. He sets it on the communique desk, which glows briefly and then sends the message out in whatever form Midgard’s governments can omprehend, along with options for response. Thor leans back in his chair with a grin.

“Midgardians are very welcoming and kind,” he says. “This is going to be great.”

The first person to respond to them isn’t a government of any kind, but Tony Stark.

“Thor, that you?” his voice comes through in the throne room’s speakers. When Heimdall strains his vision, he can see the inventor in a room with vaulting ceilings and many machines. He is tired, desperate, and solitary.

“Stark,” Thor says. “I was not aware you held any public office.”

“I could say the same about you, winghead,” Stark says. “On behalf of my fellow earthlings, welcome. Look, I have a very lucrative offer for you and your people if you want to give me a sneak peak of some of that Asgardian tech, before the US government, for instance.”

Thor looks hopefully at Heimdall, who shakes his head. Asgard must not become a resource for opportunists. These first few weeks must be those of caution.

“I will have to think on that, my friend,” Thor says, face falling. “Thank you for your welcome. Say hello to everyone for me.”

“Uh, yeah, I will,” Stark says, and disconnects abruptly.

The rest of the day progresses this way, as the  _ Statesman  _ orbits Midgard’s longitude. Many governments send greetings and welcomes, news organizations and other individuals contact them through the open line for communication, and Thor promises to think on every offer which is presented them. On another table, they begin to compile a list of names and nations, possible allies and possible foes.

Thor tires. Heimdall can feel it, like a weight on his own shoulders.

“Sleep, my king,” he says. “I will field any messages while you do.”

Heimdall has not needed the cleansing dreams of sleep for some time now. Thor retires to his chambers with visible relief, and Heimdall continues responding to messages through the next few hours. 

And then he receives a hail which gives him pause, one from another Aesir.

“The Lady Sif,” he says. “I thought you lost.”

“I request audience with the King, Heimdall,” Sif says, rage in every syllable. “I will speak with Odin the Allfather and treat with no other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shit is getting real!
> 
> find me at fingalruche.tumblr.com
> 
> also, my friends are going to the Toronto Fringe Theatre Festival this summer! I am very proud of them, and would love it if strangers on the internet could share this link to their gofundme- https://www.gofundme.com/brodiaries


	14. Mother's Day

Val wished she stayed with Amora, now more than ever. Sitting still to listen was never her forte, and Eldred the Sorcerer’s lectures brought visceral memories of school on Asgard. Loki sat beside her, taking notes and tapping complex rhythms against his thigh while he wrote. She was barely listening to the old man now, instead trying to pick apart the patterns Loki tapped out. It was only when he stopped that she realized he was glaring at her.

“Pay attention,” he mouthed, jerking his head to the front of the lecture hall.

Val glared back, but redoubled her efforts. Eldred the Sorcerer spoke in one uninterrupted sentence, and his back was now turned to the students because he was writing something in his equally uninterrupted scrawl. Val made a show of copying down the next phrase she could pick up ( _ in _ tent versus  _ at _ tent, whatever that meant), but found her thoughts drifting back to Amora.

“What was the  _ point, _ ” Loki snipped, “Of bringing you to this world if you weren’t going to learn anything?”

It was after the lecture, and they were packing up.

“I am learning,” Val said. “Learning what a bunch of self-important nasties you magicians are.”

“Loki, Valkyrie,” Eldred’s teaching assistant, Omwe, said. “I have your papers.”

He handed them back without comment, though Val thought she could surmise a bit of a disapproving look on his impassive face. She looked at the number on the corner of her paper, and winced. Little blow to the ego, that.

“Why are you even taking classes?” she asked Loki with a huff while they walked back to their dorm. Two planets later and they were still roommates. “You’re already good at all of this.”

“I thought brushing up on rudiments would help me with my current… malfunction,” Loki said. “The Norns no longer leech my power, but I’m still disconnected.”

“Because Yggdrasil was destroyed.”

“That’s the current theory,” Loki said. “But  _ energy  _ can neither be created nor destroyed. So in a sense, Yggdrasil’s power still exists. It’s just a matter of finding it. Not as easy as finding a massive tree.”

“Okay,” Val said with a frown. There were a couple of holes in this theory that she could think of, but she supposed she didn’t have the centuries of learning to back up a contradiction. 

Instead, she stared at her returned paper, trying to make sense of Omwe’s cryptic corrections. It was no good. If she was going to make heads or tails of where she went wrong, she would have to ask for help, or visit someone during office hours, and the mere thought of this made something like fear clench in her gut.

_ I hate this planet,  _ she thought.  _ I want a fucking drink. _

“Going out,” she said. “It’s Friday, and I’m tired.”

“From studying too hard?” Loki asked.

“Fuck you,” Val said. “Maybe you could help me instead of mocking me. That would be the real challenge, wouldn’t it?”

Before Loki could respond, she left their shared room and started down the hall. The bar was across the street from the students’ residence, and she intended to stay there for the night instead of with her irritating roommate, who hadn’t slept now for a few days and was still trying magic experiments at all hours.

There was a gnome at the pub’s entrance who looked her over.

“In order to imbibe, you must answer these questions three,” he said.

“I’m here for a drink,” Val said shortly. “No fucking riddles.”

“Very good,” the gnome said, and opened the door. “This is a place for good times, not brain work!”

“I like you,” Val said, and resisted the urge to pat his head. People from her planet did not pat equals on the head.

Inside it was a fracas. There was narry a book in sight, and plenty of good times. Val swaggered up to the bar, and ordered the tallest beer she could. It arrived foaming and smelling of buckwheat. She sighed, and sat down, for once not jumping out of her skin.

“My name is Alstair,” said the bartender. “Let me know if you need that topped up, glorious scholar.”

“Oh, I’m not too glorious a scholar,” Val said. “I just enrolled with Loki. We’re a dynamic duo, I’m afraid.”

“Fair enough,” Alstair said, and started to wash a glass while they talked. “Can I put on the holoscreen for you? Bar nuts? Anything to make you comfortable?”

“Holoscreen would be fine,” Val said. “Thanks.”

Alstair fiddled with the holoscreen, which looked about a couple decades out of date. Eventually it crackled, and a news presenter shuffled papers together before continuing to a new story.

“The disenfranchised Asgardians have finally come to rest in their new home,” said the crackly translator. “Midgardian governments curry favour with the new King, Thor, though experts posit that Midgard has nothing to trade with the ages old monarchy.”

“Can you change the channel?” Val asked.

“News from home isn’t what you were looking for, eh,” Alstair nodded, and switched the galactic football intramurals.

“It’s neither here nor there for me,” Val lied. “But my travelling companion will drop everything and abandon me if he catches wind that things aren’t doing well for Asgard. And he has a way of knowing what others know.”

“Makes sense,” Alstair said. “Never saw him here when he was working on his degrees, but he always seemed to know what was going on.”

Val nodded, and took a deep sip of her beer.

“He doesn’t interest me. If he doesn’t come here, then good,” she said. “I’ll see him again in a few hours anyway. He’s my roommate.”

“Ooooh, sorry about that,” Alstair said. “But he just walked in.”

Val looked around, despite herself, and saw someone who would have looked just like Loki if he hadn’t changed shape twice, and also took more care of his hair. This not-Loki wore a cape adorned with a great many feathers the colour of amber, with the bugs still in it.

“That’s just an impostor,” she said. “And not even a well informed one. Everyone knows Loki is greasy as the day is long and carries himself differently these days.”

Alstair nodded, as indifferent about the new Loki as Val.

“Wouldn’t be here if it were the real one,” he conceded.

“Cheers to that.”

They’d caught the not-Loki’s attention, and not-Loki wandered up to them, with a smile in his eyes.

“Barkeep,” said not-Loki with the authority of someone who was about to get  _ fucked up.  _ “One of your strongest.”

Alstair and Val exchanged a look, but the barkeep obliged.

“Can’t help but notice your look,” Val said. “Not especially original, huh?”

“Oh, this,” not-Loki said with a shrug downwards. “I suppose not.”

“Love the cape though.”

“It’s a helm,” the impostor corrected with a primness that was almost like Loki. “And it lets me fly.”

_ Nutter,  _ Val thought, and sipped her beer some more.

“You are Valkyrior,” not-Loki continued.

“Please,” Val said. “Valkyrior was my mother. People just call me Valkyrie.”

“I beg your pardon,” not-Loki said, looking genuinely taken aback. “I didn’t know the Valkyries had children.”

“I’m joking,” Val said.

“A jest!” not-Loki said with a very non-Loki grin, and patted Val’s back. “I like you, and we will drink til it’s no longer my day!”

“Your day?” Val repeated.

“All the Valkyrie’s drink on my tab,” not-Loki said, and Val grinned. She would figure this out over the course of the evening.

“Does my mysterious benefactor have a name?” she asked, holding up her hand for another. Not-Loki shifted a little, as though the face were a mask and Val could see what was underneath.

“I was called Frigga,” not-Loki said softly. “But worry not. I doubt that’s what I’ll be called in the coming days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was so late with this! I definitely want to continue with it but I don't know how regular updates will be.


End file.
